


DC8: Formula for Everything

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 05:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13001310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: Formula for Everything: if that is so, maybe it will help the guys out with their shopping...ever been shopping with someone being hard-headedDestiny’s Cycle (DC) follows the Outlaw days.. what does Destiny have in store. Each month, I get a challenge, and then the cycle continues. You can follow KC, HH, & the gang through their adventures. DC does link together, but some tales stand on their own. Yet, its building its own world history, inside jokes, characters, places, etc. I hope you enjoy DC. Feedback WELCOMED!





	DC8: Formula for Everything

 

“A Formula for Everything….”

 

 

 

 

Lowering the firearm, Heyes lifted it a second time, extending his arm. The corners of his mouth pulled, his dimple appearing, “How much?”

The fastidiously dressed clerk cast a quizzical glance from Heyes to the grumpy man at his side, before saying, “only twenty.”

A frown creased Curry’s face, “too much, isn’t worth it.”

Heyes grin twisted sideways, “we been over this.”

“Still, stand by what I said.”

“You usually do.” Heyes responded, returning his attention to the clerk, “I’ll take it.”

Curry grunted, striding over to look out the front window.

Heyes peeled bills from his bank roll, laying them on the counter, before pulling his holster from his saddlebag. 

Curry came all but stomping back, “Unload your loops, Schofield’s uses Smith and Wesson cartridges.”

The slightest wrinkle appeared along the bridge of Heyes’ nose, “Hey!” he barked at the clerk, “get me a box of .45s for this.” He nodded at the pistol on the counter while shoving rounds from his cartridge belt. 

Watching him, Curry noticed a slight flexing of the muscles along Heyes’ jaw and grinned, “Didn’t realize they used different rounds, huh? You could always buy a Colt.”

“Told you, I liked the feel of the Schofield when we were in Fort Worth.”

“Yeah, and I said, you had a perfectly good Colt strapped to your side.”

The grin appeared again, but Curry could read the outright mocking in it easier than the trail of a wounded stag as Heyes bitingly said, “You mean had a perfectly good Colt, ‘till someone up and sold it.”

Placing the box on the counter and sweeping up the pile of coins laying there, the clerk looked from one man to the other, stating, “thank you for your purchase,” and scurried to the far side of the store. 

Opening the box, Heyes set to ramming rounds into the cartridge loops. From the corner of his eye, he saw his cousin cross his arms. Snorting, he purposely angled his back to Curry, not wishing to see the look he knew was being laid on him. Strapping his rig on, he dropped five brass into the pistol and snapped it closed, holstering it. 

“You would think by now, I would of figured out, why you gotta be so hard headed.”

Walking about his partner, Heyes only reply was a tossed scowl as he swung the door open, leaving Curry behind and stepping into the stunningly, bright morning sun. Hitching his holster up and tugging his hat low, he turned right. 

When a shadow stretched out beside him, he knew who it was and picked up his pace toward the livery stable. 

“Still, thank that blamed Scholfield is a bad choice.”

“Hey, Kid, way you were growling around back there, you sure had that poor clerk scooting about on egg shells.”

“Not changing the subject. I want you to listen to me.”

Heyes spun, tipping his hat back; he placed his hands on his hips, “Fine! Say your piece.”

Curry’s lips pursed and exhaling, he hitched his thumbs in his holster belt. “Schofields are unreliable, they tend to jam.” 

“I seen Colts jam. ‘ Sides I like the feel, the quick-loading, and…” Heyes raised his chin, a smugness coming to his face. “It is my pistol not yours.”

“Still, it is not reliable.”

Rolling his head, Heyes took off walking. “What do I care? I have you and that is all the reliability I need.”

Curry stayed where he was for a heartbeat or two, trying to hold on to his irritation, but a huffing laugh escaped and with a shake of his head, he followed his cousin, “someday, you may not have me there and it might be right when that thing jams, or blows part of your hand off.”

“Someday you won’t be there, at the exact time, my pistol fails.” Heyes chortled darkly, “sure, glad you don’t use them sort of odds figuring in a poker game.” He looked over at his partner, who did not look amused. “I’ll let you pick out the horses.”

Curry shook his head and as he opened his mouth, Heyes cut him off, saying “Drop it! You already know you aren’t getting anywhere.”

“Yeah, I do.” Kid Curry scratched at the side of his face. “Still, surprised by how much you pulled in last night. Kept seeing you raking in those poker pots and I felt like luck was on our side, for once.”

“Keep telling you, it isn’t luck.” Heyes looked over, “there is a formula for everything, and I know the formula for poker.”

“If ‘n that is so, why don’t you use it more often?”

Heyes slid to a stop, leaning toward his partner to hiss, “Cause, I’m an outlaw not a hustler.”

“What?”

“The formula includes finding players who are too dumb to realize they are playing out of their depths. Then I befriend ‘em and lead ‘em on out to drown. Makes me feel like a thief when I’m done.”

“But you are a thief.”

A tightness came to Heyes’ face and he swallowed. 

“You’re serious.”

Heyes looked down. 

“You’re really serious?!”

“I built them men up, making them believe they couldn’t lose, and took it all from them. That is why I never stayed at one game too long. I couldn’t let them catch on to what I was doing.”

Curry shook his head, “long as we been together and I still learn new things about you.”

“Suppose, I’m an enigma.”

“No, you're just my pain in the backside cousin with a large vocabulary.” Knocking Heyes on the shoulder, Curry set to walking again, “and, I am choosing the horses, holding you to that.”

Trotting to catch up, Heyes dropped an arm about his cousin’s shoulders, “I meant, I would let you choose yours not mine.”

“Not what you said.”

“Now, Kid….” 

As they trailed past the blacksmith shop teasing one another, a man about forty with a heavy gold watch chain across his vest and a bear claw hanging from it, stepped more into the street. His icy eyes watched them all the way by, a smile coming to his face that pulled the scar on his chin tight as he muttered, “Well, now, that could biblically change my whole day.”

 


End file.
